I'm Sorry
by Lif61
Summary: Now that Sam's back with Lucifer again the Devil tries everything he can to get him to say yes.


**A/N: The title is also my apology to Sam for this. I started writing this after re-watching 11x09 "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" recently, and I just couldn't help myself.**

 **WARNING: Rape/non-con, reference to past suicidal thoughts**

* * *

"Hey, roomie. Upper bunk? Lower bunk? Or do you wanna share?"

Sam's mouth dropped open in horror at Lucifer's words, and he found it difficult to breathe, like his chest and throat were constricting. He felt much too hot and like he was going to be sick, and he did his best to not have any more tears trail down his cheeks. Sam refused to shed any more than that single tear.

He felt so incredibly stupid. He knew he shouldn't feel that way, knew that Lucifer was the master of manipulation, but Sam still felt like he should've been smarter than this. Of course it wasn't God who'd been talking to him. Why would God be talking to him? God didn't care. He'd never cared. He'd left Sam to the evils of the Cage for centuries. God had left him there, and he'd ended up in there to save the world, _God's_ world. Clearly he didn't care. It'd been stupid to hope.

Sam was too frightened to really feel any anger, but it was there, beneath the ice cold that gripped his muscles and held him in place.

He'd been trying to hold it together this whole time, and he had thought he'd been making the decision to talk to Lucifer from a place of courage. He thought this whole time he'd been courageous. That didn't mean he was void of fear. Really, it was like it was trying to consume him. And now it did. His knees gave out and he fell to the bottom of the cage, his hands gripping the bars on the sides as he tried to come to terms with his current situation.

He was in Hell.

With Lucifer.

In a cage.

With no way out.

And Lucifer wanted to use his body.

He was more than willing to hurt him to get it.

But Sam could still do one thing.

He could keep saying no.

"Look, Sam, I know it's not ideal," Lucifer went on, stepping closer to him, making Sam look up in fear and try to press himself back against the bars, "but I want out, and here you are. So sure, it wasn't God who sent you, but that doesn't mean I can't help. I can beat the Darkness, Sam. I've done it before. I can do it again."

Sam looked away from him, finding it very difficult because his instincts were screaming at him to watch him, to make sure the predator wouldn't attack when he wasn't paying attention.

But he knew Lucifer. Right now he wouldn't be sudden with his movements. He seemed to be in the mood where he'd give Sam a chance to give him what he wanted first, he was willing to try manipulation before he got to pain.

He crouched down in front of him, close enough to touch him. He didn't, not yet, but Sam felt closed in by him being so near, wanted to escape somehow. He couldn't let him touch him again. And now it sickened him that he had in the vision, that he'd showed Sam what he'd wanted to do to him. It was something he'd done in the Cage before, putting chains through his body and holding his eyes open with clamps that pulled at his skin, but it wasn't anything he was ready to experience ever again. He shouldn't have to.

Lucifer didn't have devices to hurt him with him, but he knew firsthand that his body worked just as well.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Sam asked, finally looking at him, deciding to drag the conversation out. Maybe if he stalled, Dean would get to him in time to save him.

"Have I ever lied to you, Sam?" he asked.

Sam raised his eyebrows incredulously at the question. "Yes."

"Okay, when?"

"Uh, I don't know, when you made me think you were God, when we first met and you pretended to be Jessica, when you told me you wanted to make me happy."

"Hey, back it up there," he reprimanded sternly. "The first two weren't lies. I never said anything false to you those times. Not once. I simply did things that led you to believe something in a particular fashion. I wasn't _lying_."

"Fine," Sam shot back, seeing a bit of Lucifer's point. "Then what about that last one?"

He shrugged. "It was true at the time. Moving on - you're gonna say yes."

Sam studied him for a bit, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He couldn't tell, but he didn't like the way Lucifer's blue eyes seemed to be taking all of him in.

"There's no _or_ to that statement? No threat?"

Lucifer casually reached out and ran the back of his hand up Sam's shin.

"I think you know exactly what I'll do to you."

Sam desperately wanted to move his shin away, but he couldn't. It was like his muscles had simply stopped working. He tried to take a deep breath, but his inhale was shaky.

He fought back more tears, and shook his head. "You won't do that," he told him.

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Because Dean is gonna save me. I have faith."

Lucifer got up and started laughing. "Faith? Really? In your brother?"

Thinking about Dean gave Sam some courage and he was able to stand again. Lucifer began prowling around the Cage, and Sam made his way to his feet, slowly walking his way around as well to avoid him.

"What good is _faith_ if it got you with me again? Clearly you have some issues putting it in the right place."

Sam had the urge to snap that it wasn't fair, but he held it in and let it out as a long exhale.

"Dean will save me. He's done it before."

"Oh, has he?" seeming genuinely interested, but in a way that Sam recognized was mocking, "Then why do I remember Dean letting you down over and over again? Locking you up when you were drinking demon blood, punching you the times you tried to explain yourself or even wanted help, got mad at you when you ran away from your abusive father. Oh, sure, he's saved you alright," he finished. "Lots of times."

"It-" Sam began, raising his voice before stopping himself. "It wasn't like that and you know it. He had his reasons."

Lucifer nodded gravely, but Sam could tell he was making fun of him. He did what he hadn't wanted to do and looked away from him. He knew it wouldn't be good to get emotional.

But he was. He was terrified, and he really was hoping that Dean would get there in time.

 _But what if he doesn't?_

"But you're still the guy who saved the world, right?" Lucifer asked. "Come on, where's the old Sam I know and love!"

"I'm not saying yes to you!" he shouted at him.

"Why not?"

Sam stopped, looking at him with his mouth agape. He couldn't say anything to such an outrageous question.

Lucifer stepped towards him and Sam couldn't move, had to just watch as his torturer approached him, a hungry look in his blue eyes.

"I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse. And I could torture you." He looked him up and down, licking his bottom lip as if ideas were coming to mind. Sam's skin crawled, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. If he had to withstand even a few more seconds of Lucifer looking at him like that he thought he was going to be sick. The Devil went on in a lower voice, his tone infused with lust, "I could inflict pain like you can't even imagine. I could inflict such delicious, perfect pain. I'm not going to harm a glorious little hair on that glorious little head."

Sam didn't believe him, but he had to keep Lucifer talking, so he asked, "Then, what do you want?"

"My offer, remember? You see, Sam, you need me. And I'm gonna prove it to you."

Before Sam could comprehend it Lucifer was just a few inches away, and he pressed his hand to his forehead. Sam lost track of time after that, wasn't sure how long he'd been with Lucifer. The Devil showed him memory after memory, always making horrific comments that turned Sam's stomach where he could. The first memory was from when he was in high school, making out with his study partner. Lucifer had talked about his skills with his tongue at that point, had suggested that he'd done other things with it, or that he really wanted him to. But he also told Sam that he didn't seem to be that guy anymore, the bold, decisive person he remembered. Sam didn't know how to tell him that he'd crushed that out of him, ground it up into dust with all his tortures and touches.

The next memory Lucifer showed Sam was of himself throwing them into Cage. He could only stare at that, stare as he saw the one decision that had changed his life forever, that had had led to his soul being ripped apart and torn into again and again and again till he was nothing but agony and scar tissue. Of course he wasn't the hero that Lucifer used to see him as. Why would he be if he'd been taken apart and put back together so many times? He still made comments while watching that memory, smacking Sam's ass while saying that decision led to a lot of fun times, saying that he'd enjoyed the intimacy. But then, after the teasing he asked what had changed Sam. Why wasn't he the guy willing to sacrifice himself to save the world?

Sam was questioning it as well. Where was that guy? Had it just been the Cage that had carved that out of him? Had it been when he'd failed to close the gates of Hell? Had it been the unleashing of the Darkness? Sam had thought he was ready to sacrifice himself. He was, wasn't he?

But no, what Lucifer asked was something different.

He wasn't asking for a sacrifice. He was asking for submission.

But with Lucifer so close to him, with what he was saying, with being forced to see these memories, he felt as though he was wrong.

He had to be wrong.

Sam was weak now, wasn't as strong as he used to be.

The last memory they peered in on was of Sam and Amelia, talking about her husband. It hurt to watch, and he still hated himself for that time even though he'd lost it and had been doing his best to keep on going, to be happy even when he'd wanted to die. He supposed he was grateful that Lucifer hadn't chosen a more private memory, though the Devil surely knew it was there.

Lucifer did all he could to bring up that guilt that Sam had thought he'd locked away for good. He spoke of how he'd let Dean down, of how he didn't look for him, and Sam did his best to defend himself, to explain. But even the arguments sounded weak to himself.

Maybe Lucifer was right.

He had changed.

And instead of discussing the Cage, all the memories that still set Sam's mind and soul alight with pain, Lucifer eventually asked, "And so why did you let Dean talk you out of closing the gates of Hell? 'Cause the old Sam never would've done that, not ever."

Again, Sam tried to speak up, to defend himself: "I didn't-"

As was usual when Lucifer was trying so desperately to manipulate Sam, to get his point across, he interrupted him, "No, wait, here's my personal favorite, is you do everything stupid thing you could to cure the Mark, even after you knew it would go bad."

Sam swallowed roughly and clenched his jaw, forcing up an answer, "My brother was dying."

"Yes, and you'd do anything to save him, and he'd do anything to save you, and that is the problem. Because of this, you're so overcome by guilt that you can't stand to lose Dean again, and he could never lose you. And so instead of choosing the world, you choose each other, no matter how many innocent people die."

Sam raised his eyebrows at that, daring himself to take a step closer inside the memory. "You're gonna lecture _me_ about hurting people?" he asked, completely stunned. " _You?_ "

"You know I'm right, Sam." He shook his head in disbelief, completely unable to meet his gaze. Just being near him was bringing up horrific memories, but the fact that he felt he could talk to him like this? It was more than Sam knew how to handle. "You know it," the Devil insisted. "And I know that if you're gonna beat the Darkness, you have to be ready to die. You have to be ready to watch the people you love die. A long time ago, you could've fought the good fight, kid, but not anymore. You can't win this one, Sam. You're just not strong enough."

"And you are?"

He shrugged, giving him an easy smile. "Hey, snapping necks and cashing checks - that's what I do."

The memory faded, and they were back in that dark cage again, lightning flashing. Sam flinched at it, and then jumped when he heard the thunder that accompanied it. Lucifer gave him a knowing smile at his reactions, but for now, remained silent. Sam wanted to cover his ears, run away. But he couldn't, and he didn't want to show weakness like that. Still, he slid down to the cage floor, and lowered his head, his eyes closed.

"Now, Sam," he began, getting closer to him, much closer, "I know this is a lot to take in, so if you need to take some time and noodle on it, that's cool. But, uh, the world is ending, clock ticking and such, if you follow me."

"What do you want me to say?" Sam asked solemnly, tilting his head up to look at him.

"A little word - uh, starts with _y_ , ends in _e-s_."

Sam looked away at that. Even after the memories they'd gone through, after all of Lucifer's atrocious words that did hit home in some way, Sam had a promise to keep to himself. He wasn't going to say yes.

"Okay, you don't like me," Satan went on. He sighed. "I get it. I get it. Sometimes _I_ don't like me either. But Gabriel and Raphael are dead. God went out for a pack of smokes and never came back." As he spoke he'd walked a short distance away from him, and Sam thought he finally had just a little room to breathe, then he was much too close to him for his liking once more. "And Michael?" he continued. "Well, let's just say that prison life hasn't really agreed with Michael. These days he's sitting in a corner, singing show tunes, and… touching himself." A little shake of his head as if that disturbed him.

"So you're it?" he asked glumly.

Lucifer gave him a smile that looked absolutely terrifying in the dim lighting in this part of Hell.

"I'm it! And hey, I-I'm not the good guy. We-we both know I'm not, but, uh, the Darkness? She's the end of everything. But I can beat her." He crouched down, getting in Sam's space, making him try to back up. He even reached out a hand to grasp a bar near his head. " _We_ can beat her. You and me. Together. So, come on, Sam," he urged, voice quiet, as if it was meant only for him though there was no one else around. "Make the right choice. The big sacrifice one more time, man."

He tilted his head down and away from him. With Lucifer this close it was hard to meet his gaze, to even look at his face. He suddenly felt like Satan was touching him, though he knew he hadn't, hadn't seen any movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Sa-am," he said, dragging his name out, his tone breathy.

It reminded Sam of all the other times he'd said his name like that, the times he'd been inside him.

"It's time to save the world, man."

Sam spared a glance back up at his blue eyes, and then he looked him over, his stomach clenching, his heart going up into his throat. He knew what he had to do, but now, he was assessing if he had it in him to do it. Lucifer was shorter than him, but that didn't matter. It had never mattered. He had the capability to hurt him, no matter what body he was in, no matter what form he took.

He wanted to prove that he could remain himself, wanted to prove that he wasn't stupid enough to fall for Lucifer's manipulations and bitter, twisted words like he had earlier that day. And he knew pain would rain down upon him if he did. But he had to do it.

Nearly forgetting how to breathe, Sam looked up, meeting his eyes, seeing the eagerness in them. Lucifer thought he was close.

"No."

No reaction from the fallen archangel.

"No," he reiterated, shaking his head a little, letting him know he wouldn't be swayed.

Lucifer got up, wiped a hand over his mouth, and was pacing the cage furiously now. There was anger wound up into his movements, disbelief.

"What do you mean _no_?" he asked.

"You heard me," Sam responded evenly. He wouldn't back down now. He couldn't. He wouldn't let himself be someone else again, wouldn't let himself be possessed again. After Gadreel he'd told himself he'd do all he could to remain in control of his body. And he was doing that, right here, right now.

"Okay, now, Sam, I gotta tell you, this is selfish, man. Everything that-"

Sam interrupted him, saying sternly, "You are done. It's over." There were tears in Lucifer's eyes now, desperation. He knew he was losing. That gave Sam strength, breathed life back into his frozen body, and he stood, telling him, "And you know what? You talk a good game. You do. Hell, you almost had me sold a few times, but then I thought, what if you're right? What if you're telling the truth? What-what if you can beat her?"

"I can!" the Devil declared, stepping forward, getting closer to him. Sam nearly backed away in fright, but he held his ground. He would hold.

Sam reasoned, "Even though, last time, it took you, plus three other archangels. Oh, yeah, and capital _G_ , God.

"Oh, okay, what, you mean the dead weight?"

"But let's say you gank her. Then what?"

Lucifer shrugged, looking around dismissively. "I move to LA, solve crimes."

"Wrong. Then you go about starting the Apocalypse _again_ because you're an old dog, and that's your old trick."

Lucifer pointed a finger at him, and Sam almost flinched from the sheer amount of emotion in the movement. He was getting the Devil angry. Very angry. There was fury in his gaze. But there was fear. Fear that he was going to fail.

"First off, you don't know that. Second, even if I did, that's better than what she has planned."

"Is it? Really? Because this is what I think. I think that, whoever wins, you or the Darkness, everyone else loses. So, no. My _answer_ is _no_." Lucifer began to laugh, as if he simply didn't know what else to do in this situation, and it made Sam feel strong despite the fear coursing through him, powerful. He wasn't letting that fear control him, and he wasn't going to let Lucifer control him. Not again. "This isn't 'cause of Dean, or-or the past. This is about me having faith in my friends, having faith in my family. We will find a way. I'm ready to die. And I'm ready to watch people I love die. But I'm not ready to be your bitch."

Sam clenched his jaw, taking in a deep breath. Those last words had been the most difficult to say. But he'd said them, and there was no taking them back. Even when Lucifer's expression relaxed and he looked upon Sam with eyes that were frighteningly calm, something that he recognized, he didn't wish to take it back. He was going to let whatever happened happen. He'd said his part, and he meant it. Now there was just waiting for Lucifer's response, tension filling the space between the air, crackling like the lightning flashing through Hell.

"Okay," he said, voice nearly tranquil. He smiled. "Plan B."

An immense force whacked Sam in the chin, and he grunted as he was knocked to the ground. His face instantly began to throb as he scrambled away. The dark angel started coming over to him, and then he crouched down, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and he punched him again. And again. And again.

Sam grew dizzy from the blows, the edges of his vision going fuzzy and then black. He thought maybe there was a hand on his belt, but he was too out of it to be sure. Sam tried lifting his head up, tried reaching out to shove the hand away. He cried out as that made him receive another punch, blood streaming down his face.

He thought he heard panicked cries of his name from somewhere behind him. Sam tilted his head back to look. Was that Dean? Was Castiel with him? Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe his mind was creating it for him so he could cope with the hand now undoing the button and zipper on his jeans.

"Looks like we got company," Lucifer said.

Sam's heart stopped at that.

They were real.

They were going to see.

Sam didn't associate Dean and Castiel as being part of his life when he was with Lucifer. It just wasn't how things worked. It was Lucifer and Sam. No one else. But now his family was here, a completely different part of his life. They burned bright and beautiful in his life, helping him keep going. And now they were together with the unending darkness that made up more of his memories than they did. It didn't make sense to him, and it frightened him, and his cheeks immediately reddened with shame.

"Boys," Lucifer called to them, "welcome to the party! Well, not really a party, more of a show."

"Don't!" Dean cried as Lucifer now grabbed Sam's face in a crushing grip, and then punched him again.

"I know, I know, you want in, right?" Lucifer questioned. "Wanna save poor baby bro? Well I'm sorry, but I'm not done with him yet. Need him to say yes to me, ain't that right, Sammy?"

Sam didn't know how but he managed to get out, "I already told you no."

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna change that. Since being nice to you didn't work, I thought maybe some pain would do the trick. Besides, you always were a little masochist in the Cage."

There was rattling from the bars, as if someone incredibly strong was trying to pry at them. There was a hand in his hair, and Sam reached up, grabbing it. It was rough and strong, Dean's hand.

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm here. We're gonna get you out of this."

"Aww, so adorable," Lucifer commented. "Oh, and uh, the other one, you can stop trying to get in. It won't work. You have your pal Crowley to thank for that. Just gonna have to sit back, watch the show, maybe make some popcorn, grab a soda. Oh, and make sure no kids sneak into the theater. This film's X-rated."

Dean held onto his hand tighter, maybe trying to reassure him. Sam figured his brother and his best friend knew what was going to happen at this point, had probably already figured out from Lucifer's words what had happened in the Cage. Dean seemed to have known a little already, or had maybe just suspected; Sam remembered the way he'd instantly gotten overprotective when Sam mentioned that Lucifer had touched him in his vision.

At least he hadn't touched him like he was touching him now. Sam was too out of it to try and fight as Lucifer started pulling his jeans and boxers down. So he just held onto his brother, and he was glad Lucifer wasn't taking that away from him. Castiel reached out now, too, his hand in his hair. Maybe Lucifer found this amusing. Knowing him he probably did. Though they were doing this, they still couldn't help Sam. Sam tried moving Lucifer's hand away when he touched his thigh, greedily running his hand along it. His wrist was simply grabbed and held down by his head. Cas instantly moved to touch his fingers, curling gently around them.

"Don't do this," Sam begged.

He was already awash with heat, shame and mortification combatting the freezing cold in his blood. He had goosebumps, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, but more than that. He felt numb. Somehow, in the vicious tide of emotions, there was numbness, and he reached out for it, held on to it. That numbing fear was more real to him than the hands of his family holding him as Lucifer's ruining touch ran over his bare skin. He was used to the numbness, used to the agonies he was about to endure. What he wasn't used to was his family being there to witness it. It made Sam want to hide himself from them, hide his secrets, bury them where they could never be discovered. But they knew now. How could they even look at him? How could they even stand touching him?

Maybe they weren't touching him, and Sam was just imagining it. Lucifer let go of Sam's wrist, and he yanked his hand out of Castiel's grip, reaching up, trying to punch his attacker. He tried to kick too, but he couldn't aim very well with his pants down around his knees.

"Look, I like that you're being brave, Sam," Lucifer said, knocking his hand aside, grabbing his ankles, "but save that for when we fight the Darkness, eh? You are gonna say yes to me. I'll make sure of it."

His legs were lifted up and pushed back, and Sam's dizziness worsened. He was shaking now, sure he was going to vomit. A whimpering noise climbed up the back of his throat, and Dean held on tighter.

There was anguish in his voice as he told him, "It's okay, Sammy. We're here." Then, he shot at their friend, "Cas, I don't care what that bastard said, get those bars open!"

"I can't," he admitted in defeat. "I just can't. They were built to hold someone much stronger than me."

"Then do something!"

"Dean, we can't _do_ anything!"

"Please…" Sam begged, not sure if he was talking to Castiel, or his brother, or his rapist. He just begged, not wanting this to happen.

His eyes were closed, knowing the world would be spinning if he opened them. Besides, he didn't want to see what was happening to him. He grunted when he felt thick, wet fingers working at his rim, and the hand that Dean held started trembling. He tensed, which made it hurt even more when Lucifer breached his entrance, but of course, the Devil didn't care, just worked on getting him wet for him.

The burning in him was awful and violating, and he already felt like he was being rubbed raw, and he reached out for Castiel again. He tilted his head back, gaze now meeting his family.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

His voice hitched with a sob, and his entire body tensed and flinched as another finger was pushed into him. Lucifer wasn't being gentle with this, working him roughly and quickly. A pained growl was making its way out of Sam's chest.

"You don't have to apologize," Castiel told him, voice roughened with distress.

A sniffle from Dean.

"Ain't nothin' to be sorry about."

It was difficult to look at them when they were upside down in his dizzying vision, but they were crouched down by him, doing what they could to be near him. Sam was grateful for that comfort they were trying to provide.

"I-I don't… _mm!_ I don't want you to watch."

A cry made it past his lips as another wet finger was being shoved into him, and his clutched at his family tightly, his knuckles white. He thought maybe he saw Dean wince. But if it was from his grip, or from seeing Sam in pain, he couldn't tell.

"We won't," Castiel assured him. "We won't. Just look at us."

Lucifer was completely ignoring them, wholly focused on getting his yes. Lucifer's fingers left Sam, and he looked down in fear, wondering what it was he was going to see, though he was sure he already knew. He tried kicking him again, even as his body throbbed, his rim probably already reddened and swollen.

"Hey, look at me," Dean urged, giving his hand a squeeze. "Look at me, okay? I'm here, little brother."

Sam's breaths quickened, his chest heaving as he saw that Lucifer was already hard, and he was pulling himself from the confines of his clothing.

"No. No, no, no, no, no," Sam begged to him.

Even if his family hadn't been holding his hands he still wouldn't be able to use his arms. His senses were coming back to him more, but his body was frozen, and he didn't know why. He wanted to move, wanted to fight. He knew this was on him, this inability to fight back. Lucifer wasn't restraining him with his powers. So maybe his body wanted it, wanted a cock in him. Maybe his body had missed it. Did that mean that Sam did?

No, he couldn't miss it. Not when fear was holding him so tightly he felt as though he couldn't breathe, as if his heart was going to burst.

For some reason focusing on Lucifer was a bit easier. It was something he was used to, something he knew how to do, how to get through. But knowing his family was seeing this was something else entirely. They had said they wouldn't look, and maybe they weren't. Maybe they were doing their best to just focus on his face, but he knew any human was drawn to the movement of bodies, no matter what form it came in, and maybe Castiel was too.

"I need that yes, Sam, so I'm gonna take it out on your ass until I get it."

That sentence was nearly enough to make him give in to the Devil. But he couldn't. He tried to remember how he'd felt earlier, when he'd stood up and hadn't let Lucifer tower over him, when he'd told him no, when he told him he wouldn't be his bitch.

A tear ran down his cheek, a traitorous tear that he had promised himself he wouldn't cry.

He was going to be his bitch again.

And it was going to hurt.

"Sam, please," Castiel begged. "Just look at us. We're here. This won't last forever. You've gotten through this before. You can do it again."

Sam shook his head weakly as he looked back at his family.

"I… I don't know how. I don't know _how_."

He sobbed as he felt Lucifer against him, and then he was pushing into him. The Devil held his legs back, making sure he'd reach deep in this position, and he did, tearing Sam inside. It would've hurt less if more saliva was involved, but Lucifer usually did that by forcing himself down Sam's throat, and he thought if that had happened he would've puked. He didn't want to choke and gag, so even though this tore into him like a knife, he was glad he hadn't had to be forced through that. But now he was screaming. He had wanted to hold it in, to hide the fact that he felt like he was getting torn apart, but he simply couldn't.

Then Lucifer was leaning over him, forcing Sam's legs back more, and his mouth was against his jaw, biting. He set a brutal pace, and his other hand was now working furiously at his cock. Sam's body arched into the agonies, maybe thinking cooperation would lessen it.

Maybe it was fear changing his blood flow, maybe it was his body wanting it, but Sam felt himself thickening in Lucifer's bruising grip, felt himself fill with heat. The Devil let out a triumphant laugh against his skin, and then kept on biting, and he bit hard, right where a blow had landed on his face.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut as he screamed, and he thought maybe he heard his family crying. Sam held onto them as tightly as he could as his body was abused. He was going to be bruised inside and out from this, and the blood made Lucifer's deep strokes easier, and so he slid into him with more gusto.

And he wasn't doing this because he wanted Sam in just this way. He knew he wanted him in every way, and Sam was keeping that from him.

He had thoughts of saying yes. He craved to have that horrifying word leave his lips. It would end this. It would end this brutality, this shame, this evil, ruining thing.

His screams stopped. He was ready to say it. He was going to say it.

And then, at the very last second, instead of crying that word out, he shouted, "Get off me!"

Lucifer grunted. "Nah, don't think so. Oh my dad, I missed your ass."

Sam screamed at him, his anger, his fear, his pain directed at the dark angel.

Somewhere amidst all this there was pleasure, and his aching cock was leaking.

"Help me," he gasped out to his family. "Help."

He knew they couldn't do anything, but he was so desperate for this to end, and he didn't know what to do.

He forced himself to look at them, taking turns gazing deep into their eyes. Guilt filled their depths, guilt and agony that they'd never experienced before. Sam had never once seen them look at him like that. It broke his heart. Tears streaked their cheeks, dripping from their faces, and they weren't bothering to wipe them away.

"Just hold on," Dean urged. "Just hold on."

"Don't say yes," Castiel begged him. "Please, I believe in you."

"We believe in you, Sammy. You're gonna make it."

Lucifer's cock, which was slick with Sam's own blood, was sliding against his swollen prostate as it bruised his insides, and it made him twitch in his unforgiving grip. Sam felt like he was getting crushed and torn all at once, and though he'd felt it before, he had comforted himself with the fact that this would never happen again. Never again.

But now it was happening.

He felt on the verge of climax, but he'd been feeling that pressure since Lucifer had found his prostate. It worsened now, and Sam didn't want that feeling. He didn't want to reach his end, knew it would give Lucifer more power over him. But his body didn't know how to react, didn't know what was happening, only understood the stimulation and the wild rage of emotions. So now his body was spasming, and he was holding his breath, clenching his jaw to hold in his cries as he put up with the pounding in his body. Oh god, he'd forgotten how cold Lucifer was. Frigid, like ice, but now Sam was burning. And still that ice prevailed, coaxing his screeching nerves to their end, breathing life to the flames of his climax.

Sam's mind went to a dark place as sensation jolted through him. He was in the Cage again, Lucifer taking him in every position imaginable. Taking him while he restrained him with his powers, taking him while he was tied up with rope, while he was in chains, while he simply couldn't move because his body had given up. He thought maybe his mind had given up now as pleasure tore through him, pulverizing all rational thought. There was just fire and ice, and liquid pleasure, thick and hot, and bare flesh. There was so much skin it was sickening.

Now pain engulfed him, throwing him down beneath the stormy waves, and he gasped, struggling to breathe through it, feeling as if he was choking on torment. Each sensation, each touch, was a spark in him; Lucifer's mouth on him, his hand on him, his cock in him. Even Dean and Castiel's hands hurt. He was shuddering, his voice leaving him in arrhythmic moans and deep, growling cries.

"Lucifer, stop it!" Dean yelled, though Sam was sure his brother knew it was hopeless. It was probably why he hadn't tried it before.

"I didn't get my yes!" he screeched at them. "So I'm gonna fuck him until I do. And then maybe once I'm in his body, _properly_ , I'll fuck both of you for being so annoying."

"D-don't!" Sam cried. "Don't. Just me. Just hurt me."

Lucifer purred in his ear before he licked it. "That's what I like to hear." He stilled in him, burying himself deep, his hips right up against his thighs, and Sam cried out, body arching into him. "Or maybe I should just fuck them now. What do you think, Sam? Think seeing me fuck your big brother would get a yes out of you? Or maybe Castiel?"

Sam said nothing, just groaned, trying to catch his breath. Even though he wasn't doing any of the work, he was still sweating. He was aching all over, a combination of being in this position for awhile and his body tensing. And he was still tense. Not counting how much his cock and insides hurt, his calves and back probably bothered him the most.

Lucifer pulled himself out of him, and Sam shuddered from the sensation. Then he was moving away, Sam's legs dropping down to the cage as blood trickled out of him. He heard the Devil snap his fingers, and then the hands holding his vanished.

Startled, he opened his eyes to see Dean and Castiel now standing in between him and Lucifer, who was leering at them.

"Anyone up for a foursome?" he asked.

He grabbed Dean by the throat, slamming him against the cage, and then he was punching him. Sam was crying out, and Castiel was tugging on Lucifer, trying to get him away. Dean was choking, desperately trying to draw in breath.

"Alright, Sam, I'm gonna make this real easy for you. You say the magic word or I fuck your brother while strangling him and see how quickly I can kill him like that. We both know you don't want that to happen."

Castiel threw himself at Lucifer, and the fallen archangel was knocked to the side, letting go of Dean. His brother collapsed, and crawled over to Sam. He wrapped him up in his arms, and Sam was shaking. Any touch still hurt, but he didn't care. He needed his brother. Lucifer was beating Cas now, his friend crying out from each blow. He was probably trying to beat him into submission so he could rape him just like he'd threatened. Already watching his family suffer was more than he could take. Castiel fell to the cage floor, and the Devil stepped on his right hand till he dropped his angel blade.

He gripped his face, tilting his chin up as he crouched down beside him. "Anything to say before I fuck the life out of you?"

That was the last Sam heard of that conversation. Castiel spoke quietly, as did Lucifer, and he thought he saw the Devil raise his fist again, and then there was a bright, blinding light. Sam frantically clutched at Dean, and his brother turned his head into his chest, shielding his eyes. There was a ringing sound that made blood flow from his ears, and he nearly felt like his head was going to burst.

Then it was gone. In the absence of that incisive sound, the quiet felt too loud, like something was drumming through it, making his heart beat quickly. Sam opened his eyes and it was just the three of them. The Devil was gone.

They heard footsteps, and Castiel rushed over, helping Dean hurriedly put Sam's boxers and jeans up around his hips again, and Castiel cleaned him off. He didn't heal him though, and Sam was fine with that. He didn't want to be healed, didn't want Grace in him or on him in that way.

What happened next was a blur. They talked with Crowley and Rowena, or at least Dean and Castiel did. Sam just leaned on Dean, his eyes closed, unable to look at anyone. Standing was difficult, and he was incredibly sore. His cock was sore, too. He figured Lucifer had bruised him.

Then they were making their way out of Hell, Sam limping. Castiel didn't offer to heal him, which Sam found a bit odd, but he'd been through a lot too. He probably hadn't thought to do so. He hadn't healed Dean for that matter either. So they'd do it the old fashioned way once they got back home - whiskey and dangerous amounts of pain medicine.

They made their goodbyes to Castiel and then Sam gratefully, though agonizingly, slumped into his seat in the Impala. He had his head in his hands, and Dean hadn't started the car. He could feel his brother's eyes on him.

"Sam-"

"Drive," he ordered.

"Sammy, please. I need you to talk to me."

"What is there to talk about?" he asked glumly, lifting his head up. "You saw it, Dean. And I'm guessing you know that wasn't the first time."

"Look, I…" Dean's eyes grew watery as he trailed off, and then he cleared his throat. "I know I'm not good at this stuff, but… but what Amara makes me feel when I'm with her, what she seems to want from me, it scares me, so I may not get it, not all of it, but I think I understand just a little bit. And even if I don't, I'm still here for you. Hell, I could totally be saying the wrong thing right now - I get that I do that - but what happened down there, that wasn't your fault."

"It was," Sam reasoned.

"No, it wa-"

"Dean, I _wanted_ to go there! I-I thought I had to go there, and I made us make a deal with Crowley. I went without you. And then I said no, _knowing_ what he was going to do to me if I did. So it is my fault. The fact that you even had to see it was my fault! I was a complete dumbass, and now all that happened is on me."

Dean grabbed him, and after the horrors he'd experienced not even an hour before, he flinched. But then he relaxed. It was his brother. Just his brother.

"It wasn't your fault," he told him. "If anything it's my fault for letting you go. And if you don't want to blame me, at least blame Lucifer. He didn't have to-to hurt you like that. He didn't. He didn't have to do any of it, but he did."

"He thought he had to," Sam reasoned. "He wanted a yes."

Sam was crying now, and Dean was hugging him. Sam clutched at his jacket as tightly as he could, and breathed in his scent, needing reassurance that he really was with his brother right now. He wasn't even sure how Dean could stand touching him, how he could even be in the same car as him. But he was, and he was grateful.

"I almost said it," Sam got out once he'd stopped sobbing. "Not when he threatened you and Cas, but when he was… when he was in me. I almost said it."

Dean pulled back, cupping his bruised and bloodied face in his hands. "But you didn't. Sammy, you're stronger than I ever realized, and you pulled through. You made it through it. You're alive, and you didn't give yourself to him. He's gone. Rowena put him back in the Cage. He can't get you again."

"H-how can I be so weak that I almost said it?" he asked, upper lip trembling. "I had told myself I wouldn't. I had _promised_ myself, a-and then… and then I almost broke that promise. I-I almost gave in." Another sob made its way out of him, and he lowered his head, not wanting to look at Dean. His cheeks colored just thinking of all this, of discussing it with his brother.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, Sammy. You didn't give in. That's what matters. You're stronger than you realize." Sam shook his head, pulling away from him. "You are," his brother insisted.

Then nothing more was said between them, and Dean started driving. They were in the car for about an hour, Sam shifting every so often, a pained sound leaving him. That drew a look from Dean.

Eventually, he heaved out, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Dean said. "Don't you _dare_ be sorry. I'm not having this conversation again. I know you know somewhere in your head it wasn't your fault. None of it was."

Sam had nothing to say to that. Minutes passed, and Sam despondently looked out the window, watching the slowly evolving landscape.

Then, it was Dean's turn, and Sam glanced at him, saw tears on his face: "I'm sorry."


End file.
